


Trust

by Anonymous



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aftercare, Anxious Crowley (Good Omens), Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), BDSM Scene, Hedonism, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), It probably isn't an M rating, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Sensation Play, Sensual Play, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Tickling, Touching, Trust, but better to be safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 13:31:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The warmth in Crowley’s chest was a familiar companion now, but when it had first started to fill him up, he’d been sure that he was going to discorporate. It had taken too long to realise this was just what a human body did when it loved, and was loved in return. It was Aziraphale’s gentle hands and soft touches, his lips and his eyes and his words, that made Crowley feel like that. And his trust, his absolute trust that Crowley - a creature who had never been trusted before - was going to do the right thing.Aziraphale asks Crowley to play a game, and if we know our Crowley, he'd never deny his angel anything.





	Trust

In the largest bedroom of a small cottage on the South Downs, a window was thrown open to let the cool sea breeze into the room. It was not a particularly warm night, but the fire in the cottage had been burning against the autumnal chill all day, and Crowley was keen to get some fresh air into the house before - before he didn’t have any brain cells left to think about things like fresh air. 

He turned to the bed, where Aziraphale sat primly, his ankles crossed and his hands in his lap. He’d shed his jacket at least, but his shirt sleeves remained buttoned at the cuffs, and his bowtie was in place. If it wasn’t for the look in his eyes, he could have been sat at their usual table at the Ritz, waiting for his starter to be delivered. But he did have the look. His blue eyes were dark, fiery, and they tracked Crowley’s every move. Crowley had come to invest a lot of time in putting that look into his angel’s eyes. It was quite possibly the best thing he had ever turned his hand to. Better than any of the work he had ever done. 

“Are you sure you’re ready for this, angel?” he asked, keeping back from Aziraphale for now, letting the breeze blow against the hot skin on the back of his neck. He didn’t want to crowd him.

“Oh yes my darling,” Aziraphale breathed. “I am quite sure.”

“You know the deal -”

“I know. The words. If I need them.”

Crowley stepped forward and ran a gentle thumb over Aziraphale’s lips. Aziraphale nuzzled into his hand, and brought his own up to grip Crowley’s wrist. He kissed the thin skin there, mouth lingering, and Crowley felt the thrum of his pulse beating against the soft lips. He closed his eyes as those lips kissed slowly up his bare arm, and he felt rather than saw Aziraphale smile as he reached the artfully rolled sleeve of Crowley’s shirt in the crook of his elbow. 

“Angel,” he breathed. “Are you gonna kiss me or what?”

A hand snaked up his chest and gripped the back of his neck, and he only opened his eyes when Aziraphale’s mouth met his. Crowley sank to his knees between Aziraphale’s legs and let himself be kissed, let Aziraphale lick into his mouth, bite at his lip with careful teeth. His hand came up to stroke through the angel’s hair, grown a little longer these days as he found himself as a being separate from Heaven and it’s rules. Crowley adored running the soft curls through his fingers, knowing that this was one of the very first decisions Aziraphale had ever truly made for himself. If he had his way, the angel would never will it shorter ever again. 

Aziraphale made a small noise against Crowley’s mouth as the demon gave his hair a gentle tug, and he broke away from the kiss, a small smile on his lips. Crowley released his grip and rested his forehead against Aziraphale’s, their breath mingling in a moment of shared silence. This was all still new to them, the holding and the being held, and they had a plan for this evening that was going to stretch them even further. Crowley thought that he’d be forgiven needing a moment to collect himself. It was going to be a long night. And Aziraphale understood. Of course he did. Which is possibly why Crowley found himself second guessing the whole thing. 

“Are you nervous, angel? We don’t have to -”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said softly, brushing his cheek with the back of his hands. “Of course I’m nervous. And - excited. And I know that you will look after me. No matter what happens.”

The warmth in Crowley’s chest was a familiar companion now, but when it had first started to fill him up, he’d been sure that he was going to discorporate. It had taken too long to realise this was just what a human body did when it loved, and was loved in return. It was Aziraphale’s gentle hands and soft touches, his lips and his eyes and his words, that made Crowley feel like that. And his trust, his absolute trust that Crowley - a creature who had never been trusted before - was going to do the right thing. 

“Course I will,” Crowley croaked, holding Aziraphale’s hands between his own. “And the words -”

“I know, my darling. I know.”

How they had come to this, Crowley was not entirely certain. But he took one last look into Aziraphale’s eyes and found the trust he was looking for, and a hint of excitement that burned brightly there too. Really the evening was for Aziraphale, and he should remember that, that the angel desperately wanted it. Crowley just needed to remember.

“Okay then,” he said. “Get undressed for me. Now.”

A small shiver, barely there, went through Aziraphale and he grinned. Crowley pulled himself up to standing and backed away, going to the window once more to get some air. Aziraphale took his time to get started, slipping off his shoes and pushing them under the bed. He tugged on his bowtie, running the strip of material through his fingers as he glanced up at Crowley from under his eyelashes. He was teasing, or at least trying to. Crowley did him the small mercy of peering at him over his sunglasses.

As Aziraphale got to his feet and started to unbutton his waistcoat, Crowley wished that he was the one undressing the angel after all. He’d much rather be running his hands over that soft skin, tangling in blonde curls on his chest, kissing his belly and his hands and his neck. But that wasn’t the game for today. He could do that any day, any time he chose. Aziraphale was such a hedonist that he welcomed Crowley’s touch anytime it was given, and wasn’t the demon so very grateful for that fact. It could have easily not been so; neither of them were much into the human sex thing. They’d tried it, of course, and politely decided it wasn’t for them. It was too messy, and keeping up an effort was difficult with the mind being dragged away by raging senses. But the touching thing, and the kissing thing, and the senses on fire thing - well, that was something they could both get behind. And if Crowley particularly loved to give and Aziraphale particularly loved to take, well that just made them even more well suited to one another.

But this evening was something a little bit different. 

Crowley kept perfectly still as Aziraphale stripped down to the silk shorts that Crowley had given him to wear for the occasion. The angel folded his clothes meticulously and placed them on the armchair in the corner, then came back to stand by the bed, his head bowed. The candlelight illuminated his curls from behind, like the angel he was, and Crowley thanked Her once again that Aziraphale was his. 

“Lie down on the bed,” Crowley said, slipping off his boots and his jeans in almost one movement. With his shirt sleeves rolled and his boxers in place, he was as undressed as he was going to get. They’d agreed that. 

Aziraphale took a deep, steadying breath and laid himself down. With no hesitation, his hands came up to rest over his head, and he looked at Crowley expectantly.

They’d discovered this accidentally, and it changed everything. The first time Crowley had playfully taken Aziraphale’s wrists and playfully pinned them over the angel’s head, Aziraphale had gone so limp with pleasure it was as though all of his bones had been miracled away. Crowley could still remember the sound that he had made, and the enthusiasm of the kissing that had come shortly after. 

“Eager, angel,” Crowley murmured, walking around the bed and taking hold of the leather cuffs that he had purchased especially for this occasion. “I could do anything to you once you’re all strung up with these.”

“I very much hope that you will,” Aziraphale breathed, as Crowley put the first cuff around his wrist, testing the tightness with his finger. Aziraphale wriggled at the feeling of the finger against the skin of his wrist, and Crowley chuckled.

“You’re in for a long night if that’s enough to make you squirm.”

“Oh hush,” Aziraphale grinned as the other wrist was secured. “You love it.”

“True,” Crowley said, then lunged forwards for a kiss. It wasn’t that he was nervous as such about what Aziraphale wanted him to do, but he did think it would be rather a good idea to keep this bit up too. To reassure the angel and - if he was honest - to reassure himself. Kissing had never let them down, after all.

Thankfully, Aziraphale seemed of the same mind and hummed his appreciation. 

When he finally broke away, Crowley went to the foot of the bed and secured Aziraphale’s ankles. As the last cuff was tightened into place, the atmosphere in the room changed, and Crowley glanced up to see Aziraphale watching him intensely, eyes already clouded with pleasure. 

“Not too tight anywhere?” he asked. 

Aziraphale shook his head, flexing his arms and legs as if to prove it. His face was flushed, and Crowley had a sudden memory of pinning the angel up against a wall of an old nunnery of all places, the last place he’d restrained him, and wondered if Aziraphale had been enjoying that too. He’d certainly seemed disappointed when the woman had interrupted them. Crowley filed that question away for later. 

“You look so beautiful like this, angel,” he said instead. “All laid out for me.”

“All for you.”

Crowley knelt down on the bed and leaned in for one last kiss. He put a hand on Aziraphale’s stomach as he did so, feeling the muscles twitching underneath his palm. And then, as the kiss deepened, he slowly brought his fingers together, nails scraping the soft skin. Aziraphale wriggled beneath him, and as Crowley began in earnest to tickle his stomach, the angel broke away with a laugh.

“That tickles!”

“Yeah. I did think that was kinda the point, angel.”

This had been as interesting a discovery for them both as the fact that Aziraphale rather liked to be held down. It had been an accident as well. Crowley hadn’t meant - at least not too much - to catch the angel around the waist one day in the kitchen, and to give him a good squeeze. But he had, and Aziraphale had melted into helpless laughter that had surprised them both. Crowley had almost forgotten about it by the time Aziraphale worked up the courage to ask him if one evening they might combine the two things and make a game of it. 

“Hedonist,” Crowley said fondly, lifting his hand away from Aziraphale’s stomach. “Still time to back out, if you want.”

“I do not want,” Aziraphale said primly, too primly for one in his vulnerable position.

“Oh good,” Crowley cracked his fingers. “Time to get on then, I think.”

He got to his feet and removed his glasses, putting them on the bedside table. He rolled his head and took a deep steadying breath. Time to get into character.

“Principality Aziraphale,” he said, stalking around the bed. “I believe that you were issued with a flaming sword, were you not?”

Aziraphale flushed a dark red and muttered something under his breath.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

“I said that I don’t remember. A flaming sword.”

Crowley sighed, and ran a single fingertip down Aziraphale’s arm, from his wrist to the crook of his elbow. The angel flinched and tried to wriggle away. 

“Why would you lie to me? We both know that I know the truth. Would you like to give me a different answer?”

Aziraphale shook his head, lips clamped together. His eyes followed Crowley’s every move as he ambled around the bed, and Crowley was relieved to see they were still alight with excitement. 

“Well in that case, perhaps there’s something else I can do to persuade you to tell me the truth.”

Kneeling on the bed, Crowley ran his fingernails down the insides of Aziraphale’s arms, both of them this time, and he didn’t stop at the elbow. As the light touch grazed under his arms, Aziraphale squeaked, and shifted against his bonds.

“Sure you don’t remember?”

“I told you - I don’t-”

Aziraphale broke into helpless laughter as Crowley began to tickle him in earnest, spidering his hands under his arms and down to his ribs, then back again. He’d always loved the angel’s little giggle, hadn’t heard it nearly enough lately as the pressure from Heaven began to weigh too heavily on him, and he was greedy for it now. In his own mind, he’d set limits on what he was going to do tonight. Aziraphale thought this was what he wanted, and Crowley was prepared to give him that, but he knew that he needed to be the one in control. But as he pulled back to let Aziraphale catch his breath, he realised that might be harder than he thought. 

“So, Principality, any change of heart?”

Aziraphale was breathing hard, a huge smile on his face, but he did nod his head in response. Crowley immediately dropped the persona of big bad, and put a hand to Aziraphale’s cheek, stroking his thumb over his lips. 

“Can - my darling. I thought that the little game would be fun but actually - would you mind terribly -”

“Anything, angel.”  
“I just want you. I just want it to be you. Touching me. Please. Only you.”

God-Satan-Someone, Aziraphale was so much better at this than Crowley would ever be. Six thousand years of miscommunication and going too fast and too slow, and now when it came down to it, Aziraphale turned out to be better at all this. 

“Course, angel,” Crowley swallowed hard, pushing his fingers up into Aziraphale’s hair. “Anything.”

“Thank you, my darling.”

For a moment there was silence as they composed themselves once more, and then Crowley waved his other hand in front of Aziraphale’s face. 

“You still want the spider fingers?” he asked.

“Oh yes. That part is very nice indeed.”

“Weirdo,” Crowley said fondly, kissing Aziraphale for reassurance one more time. It would be better like this. He could touch him more freely as himself, kiss him if he wanted to, pull back rather than waiting for Aziraphale to have to beg for it. He wasn’t at all sure that he would have coped with the begging. 

The angel’s ribs seemed as good a place as any to start again, but this time he swallowed down Aziraphale’s giggles as he kissed him. A definite benefit to not needing to breathe, and if Aziraphale’s enthusiastic sucking of his tongue was anything to go by, he agreed. Crowley worked over his ribs and stomach, switching his nails between light and hard, teasing and edging on cruel. His knees, placed each side of Aziraphale’s body, helped to keep him in place almost as much as the leather cuffs did. 

“You still with me, angel?” he asked, after a particularly violent twitch almost threw him off the bed. “Need a rest?”

“No,” Aziraphale gasped. “No, please. Keep going. Please.”

Whatever sensation his angel got from this, Crowley was a big fan of it. He liked to be touched by Aziraphale and there had been one occasion with some ice cubes that still makes him shiver at the mere memory, but he’d be just as happy with gentle fingers in his hair and soft kisses every day, a pair of hands to stroke and groom his wings when he needed them. But this made Aziraphale happy. Maybe this was what Heaven made him, with their rules and their discipline. They made someone who just sometimes needed desperately to be overruled, to be allowed to feel everything that they wanted to feel without fearing that they’d be punished. This was one big up yours to the upstairs, and Crowley would never fail to get joy from being a part of that.

So he shifted slowly to the end of the bed and slipped onto the floor. They hadn’t really touched feet before, other than to help with removing shoes and socks, but it was another thing Aziraphale had been sure he wanted to try. At least to see what it felt like, even once.

“If I don’t like it, we don’t have to do it again,” he’d said, holding Crowley’s hand as he shyly outlined the game he would like to play when this first came up. 

Aziraphale was breathing hard, his eyes bright, when Crowley peeked up at him from his position on the floor. Crowley raised his hands theatrically to show Aziraphale his fingers poised for action, and the angel swore softly under his breath. 

He started with a single fingertip on each hand, running up the middle of Aziraphale’s feet from heel to toes, and back again. 

“How does it feel?”

“I - I don’t know. A little harder, please.”

Crowley added another finger to each foot and pressed harder, as instructed. Aziraphale twitched then, but didn’t speak. 

“Well, how about this?” Crowley asked, gripping the toes of Aziraphale’s left foot in one hand and tickling in earnest with the other. His face was so close that Aziraphale’s right foot, bound as it was, nearly kicked him in the head. 

“Oh - Crowley - please - please -”

“Please what? Words, angel.”

It was a cruel thing to say. Aziraphale was laughing so hard, straining at his cuffs so violently that Crowley expected them to break any minute. But the laughter was so delicious, and Aziraphale was so lovely like that, that he was going to make the most of it while he could. 

He switched feet, giving the right the same treatment, and then went back to working on both, his nails skittering over Aziraphale’s soft soles and up under his toes. He didn’t really know what he was doing, going purely on instinct and how the angel sounded, but he thought that it was going well. 

Aziraphale was laughing helplessly, taking in deep desperate breaths whenever Crowley gave him a few seconds, and when the demon abandoned his feet and lunged back up the bed to attack his ribs again, Aziraphale shrieked. Crowley kissed him but he did not stop again. Aziraphale had promised he’d stop him when he had enough, and Crowley had to trust that he would, just as the angel trusted him to stop. 

“Crowley, Crowley,” he gasped. “Please, I can’t. I can’t!”

“Not hearing what I need to hear,” Crowley grinned, letting up for a moment to let the angel take another breath, then going back in. The feet were fine, but the ribs and under the arms was Aziraphale’s real weak spot, and he was getting very fond of it very quickly. 

“Crowley, please. Please.”

Aziraphale was sweating, his eyes wide, as Crowley tugged another laugh from between his beautiful lips. He looked so helpless, so desperate, that Crowley almost stopped anyway, but he wouldn’t. He’d promised. So he closed his eyes, so he didn’t have to look at his face, and moved his hands back up to tease under Aziraphale’s arms. 

“Please, I can’t. No more, no more,” Aziraphale begged. “Eden!”

Like a light going out, Crowley rolled off the bed. He went to the window and pulled it closed, then went to Aziraphale’s feet to undo the cuffs. He was, if he was honest, a little bit relieved. He’d been worried how far the angel would push himself. 

“Just you take some deep breaths, love,” he said softly, freeing Aziraphale’s ankles. “You okay?”

Aziraphale nodded, his smile still in place, but closed his eyes. His breathing was steady and the sweating had stopped by the time Crowley released his wrists, and he brought his arms down carefully like they were hurting him. 

Crowley took the duvet from the end of the bed and pulled it over the angel, who had begun to shiver in the cool air. Then he hovered awkwardly by the bed until Aziraphale opened an eye and peered at him. 

“Are you getting in, darling?”

“Didn’t wanna crowd you,” Crowley said, slipping into his side of the bed. “Giving you a minute to calm down.”

Aziraphale shifted until he was resting at Crowley’s side. 

“I want to touch you. Can I?”

“Sure,” Crowley swallowed, and closed his eyes as Aziraphale’s arms came around him, one hand resting on his chest. “You okay there, angel?”

“Oh my darling, it was everything I wanted it to be. You took such good care of me.”

Crowley felt himself blush from the praise, but he turned on his side so that he could press his forehead to Aziraphale’s, his hand coming to rest carefully on the angel’s hip. The skin was cool and he rubbed circles on it with his thumb, drawing a little sound from the angel. 

“Too much?”

“No,” Aziraphale drew his face closer and kissed him. “Just that - I do so love you, my darling. So much.”

“Love you too,” Crowley murmured, pulling Aziraphale into his arms. With a brief moment of effort, he lit the fireplace in the corner, and dressed Aziraphale in his favourite pyjamas. His hands brushed the cotton, and Aziraphale did his happy little wiggle, although he was rapidly falling asleep in Crowley’s arms. 

“Try it again sometime then?” Crowley murmured into his hair. “If you like.”

“Oh yes please,” Aziraphale breathed. “Very very much.”

It was rare for the angel to fall asleep before Crowley, if he did at all, so Crowley took the time to watch as Aziraphale relaxed into him, his face the last thing to go slack as he succumbed. He was so beautiful. So painfully beautiful. Achingly beautiful, inside and out, and Crowley knew that he’d spend the rest of whatever his life was going to be doing pretty much anything that the angel happened to decide he wanted to do. And if it was like this, a thing that gave him huge amounts of pleasure and shut off that part of his mind that was always telling him he should feel guilty for wanting things, well then all the better. Crowley would never stop fighting for him.


End file.
